


and i’ll use you as a makeshift gauge (of how much to give and how much to take)

by Branches_Cut_The_Sky_Open



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M, Stream of Consciousness, allison renee nicky and erik are all mentioned in passing, can you guess why :), more or less
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22799356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Branches_Cut_The_Sky_Open/pseuds/Branches_Cut_The_Sky_Open
Summary: there’s a slight furrow between andrew's eyebrows that belies his interest, and something tightens in neil’s chest at the sight. it feels like a panic attack turned inside out. the part of him that counts exits, that constantly pulls toward escape, reverses its polarity, tugging him into the room, closer to andrew. neil can’t explain it, the way the chamber of his heart that yells to run goes quiet when he catches the smell of andrews conditioner on neil’s team hoodie.when he asks, nicky tells him that this is love.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 17
Kudos: 60





	and i’ll use you as a makeshift gauge (of how much to give and how much to take)

neil keeps getting blindsided by the little things, the small pieces of andrewness, the sardonic twist of his mouth, the way he thumbs at the cuffs of his sleeves, how he eats the ice cream first, leaving all the chunks of cookie dough, lying in a puddle of melted vanilla. _best for last._ that was an answer he’d had to kiss out of andrew, until, neil’s lips on his neck, andrew had grudgingly explained. his voice had been tight with tenuous control, and it pulled on something in neil’s stomach, something different than what andrew’s mouth was pulling on.

when he sees andrew hunched over a box of thin mints, staring blankly at his laptop, watching the bon appetit youtube channel there’s a slight furrow between andrew's eyebrows that belies his interest, and something tightens in neil’s chest at the sight. it feels like a panic attack turned inside out. the part of him that counts exits, that constantly pulls toward escape, reverses its polarity, tugging him into the room, closer to andrew. neil can’t explain it, the way the chamber of his heart that yells to run goes quiet when he catches the smell of andrews conditioner on neil’s team hoodie. 

when he asks, nicky tells him that this is love.

the word circles in neil’s head, snagging on old sharp edges, memories of his mother, mostly. but sometimes, it makes a round and it doesn't catch. sometimes it settles into an image of renee’s usually serene smile landing a little off-kilter, truer, when allison is in the room, a recollection of how nicky’s voice seems to exist in a different realm of tenderness when he talks about erik. sometimes, he thinks about the way that andrew’s eyes don’t leave his when neil is talking, how sometimes, when andrew’s lips are on his, neil can almost imagine he feels a smile there, safe where no one can see it. 

neil had never thought that word would make it all the way around his mind without being swallowed by something from his past, something with teeth. 

now, he watches andrew in the window, cigarette smoke curling into a golden sky, and the word keeps circling, languidly. it doesn’t snag.

andrew’s eyes meet his, and they're the same color as the light on the far wall. he doesn't look angelic or magical or ethereal, he’s just there. he’s real, gilt in light, solid and safe. the word stops circling, curling around the shape of andrew in neil’s mind.

—stop looking at me like that, andrew says, but his voice holds no vitriol. that sentence hasn’t meant what it says in a long time.

—what if i don’t? asks neil, cocking an eyebrow. what will you do then?

andrew scoffs, bringing his cigarette up for another drag, but his eyes don’t leave neil’s face. when the stick is burned down to the filter, andrew slides off the windowsill, his steps deliberate until he stops, just a foot from neil.

—yes or no?

neil can’t help a smile. —yes.

time isn’t real when andrew’s kissing him. andrew’s hair is soft, warm from the evening sun, and neil tangles his fingers in it. they stand, just a little apart, andrew’s hands on the front of neil’s shoulders, as much an anchor as a barrier, and neil can’t tell if the light burning red through his eyelids in the same sunset or a new one. he doesn’t care. he just keeps kissing andrew, and andrew keeps kissing him back.

when andrew steps forward, just a little, neil tries to back up, tries to maintain the breath of space between them. 

the backs of his thighs hit the arm of the couch.

andrew steps forward again.

there is no breath of space. andrew’s chest is flush against neil. neil’s heart is pounding, and he knows andrew can feel it because one of his hands has migrated to neil’s hip, and the other has shifted just a few inches down, onto his chest. the word tightens in his head, curls closer around the space in neil’s brain labeled [andrew]. 

neil does not move his hands. he keeps them locked in andrew’s hair. andrew is still kissing him, has been kissing him this entire time. neil is still kissing him back. he never wants to stop. he wants this moment, and he wants to put it on a chain around his neck. he wants to bottle time.

when they do stop, neil waits for andrew to back up, not daring to move until andrew has gotten clear. 

but andrew doesn’t. he stays exactly where he is, chest to chest, forehead to forehead. his breathing is uneven. neil’s is too.

finally, neil can’t take the quiet or andrew’s closed eyes.

—andrew?

when andrew does look at him, his pupils are blown, and there’s something. neil can’t guess what.

—are you ok?

andrew nods once. he still doesn’t move. neil doesn’t either.

andrew’s voice is a little ragged and, neil can almost imagine, a little amazed, when he says 

—i’m ok.

neil bites his lip, trying to suppress a grin. the word has settled, wrapped closely around [andrew] in neil’s mind.

his body is full of golden light, time bottled bright behind his sternum. 


End file.
